Lexington Electric, Part II

In the winter of 1929-30, as the United States economy sank into the Great Depression, a continuing drought in Washington state made things even more difficult for the city of Tacoma. Tacoma relied for its electricity on power generated by a series of dams in the interior of the state. The drought, “unequaled for thirty-nine years,” reduced the water level behind those dams to such a low level that the city’s electricity supply was reduced to 10 percent of the requirement. The situation was so dire that some local churches had organized prayers for more rain, though at least one minister was not best pleased:

‘God planted timber for water conservation,’ declared the Rev. M, E. Bollen of University Baptist Church. ‘We cut it for profit and ask God to make up the difference. For Seattle to ask God for rain without bringing forth fruits of repentance is sheer hypocrisy and rank paganism. Rain-making preachers…have so enlarged the theological eye of the needle that it resembles a triumphal arch over the boulevard and limousines dash through six abreast.'[1]

By coincidence, the Lexington was at the Puget Naval Yard being overhauled, and in late November, the cities asked that she be used to provide power. Secretary of the Navy Adams rejected the proposal, saying that “‘many considerations’ made it inadvisable.”[2] Undeterred, a group from Washington appealed to President Hoover. Though the President told them that the decision was up to Adams, Hoover seems to have pressured the Secretary of the Navy during the following week, because Adams relented. He was still not best pleased by the idea, saying that losing the Lexington to such a task would be a “serious blow to the Navy.”[3], but he reluctantly agreed to release the aircraft carrier to the city for a “period not exceeding thirty days.”[4]

The Lexington tied up in Tacoma on December 15th, barges serving as bumpers between her and the dock, and a special-built electric substation sitting nearby. Crowds gathered at the dock and on nearby hills to watch. The next day, the ship started providing electricity, 12 hours per day. It was not a complete replacement, but it was enough to keep the city and the city’s industries running, no small thing in the middle of an economic downturn.

During the month, the Lexington was visited by troops of Boy Scouts and Girl Scouts. The Boy Scouts were entertained “with a drill by the marine corps detachment of the ship,” and the Girl Scouts showed “particular interest in the culinary department and its gigantic kitchen utensils.”[5]

There was, naturally, time for a little inter-city rivalry. Seattle had been hit by the drought as well, though apparently not as hard. She had–at least from Tacoma’s viewpoint–lorded that over the “City of Destiny” and there were some lingering hard feelings. When Seattle admitted that perhaps she could use some of the electricity from the Lexington, the city government of Tacoma flatly refused:

Tacoma and Seattle are at odds again. Tacoma papers and part of the public contend that Seattle has caused Tacoma undesirable publicity over tho Puget Sound power shortage, to remedy which the navy’s airplane carrier Lexington is now furnishing power daily in Tacoma. Official cognizance of the feeling against Seattle has been taken by Tacoma’s mayor and city commissioners. By a unanimous vote they have decided that none of the Lexington’s power shall be furnished Seattle unless specifically ordered by the Navy Department and that no power shell be sold to Seattle excepting current which otherwise would be wasted.[6]

When the Lexington detached itself on January 16th, she had delivered over 4 million kilowatt hours of electricity to the city. The rains in January had been plentiful, enough at least to get the power flowing from the dams to the city again.[7] The power supply was not back to normal, but Tacoma had, at least, made it through the holidays. The rest of the Great Depression loomed ahead.

We should not worry too much about the “serious blow” to the Navy that Secretary Adams had predicted. The month-long stint allowed the service to test the Lexington’s propulsion system more intensively than was possible at sea, and naval engineers avidly watched as the Lexington’s propulsion system underwent an impromptu endurance test. Their report, written on January 27th, 1930, revealed that the ship had managed its trial superbly, and that other than a slight oil leak, no problems had arisen.

The precedent was set, and carriers would be used again as floating powerplants, including the purchase–post-World War II–of two American escort carriers to serve as floating sources of electricity for Chinese cities on the Yangtze River.[8] The Lexington would serve in more missions of mercy, bringing earthquake relief to Nicaragua in 1931 and leading the search for Amelia Earhart in 1937.[9] When she was lost, at the Battle of Coral Sea, it was those missions that were highlighted. The Lexington, a weapon of war, was also, oddly, one of solicitude.

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17 comments

Lexington and Saratoga were, by far, the two most capable aircraft carriers of their generation, and still very capable ships into WW II, in part because of the sheer size of the battlecruiser hulls, but also because of the experimental work performed aboard Langley earlier in the 1920s – especially when she was under command of J.M. Reeves – that formed the basis for US carrier doctrine and operations in the 1930s.

The USN was very fortunate to get so many of the answers regarding aircraft operations at sea “right” aboard Lady Lex and Sister Sara; those answers (large ships, large elevators, open hangars, a focus on offensive air operations, etc.) drove the designs of the Yorktown and Essex classes, and combined with the service keeping control of naval aviation (as opposed to the RN) and a reasonable level of funding during the interwar period (the Depression notwithstanding) the USN entered WW II with the capacity for both holding the line at sea in the first 12-18 months and, at almost the same time, mounting the tremendous expansion of naval aviation that followed and – not to put to fine a point on it – won the Pacific War.

As impressive as the IJN’s operations wwre in 1941-42, for example, there were some very real operational shortcomings in the organization and doctrine of the IJNAAF, both ashore and afloat. One, obviously, is that while the USN’s carrier squadrons were frequently transferred from one ship to another depending on need, and operations were focused on getting the first “pulse” of air power in immediately upon contact with an enemy, the Japanese were much more rigid in their operational doctrine, in bo5th organization and tactics. When they had the time, this allowed them to mount much larger and more concerted attacks than the USN would have, but also required more time and/or better operational intelligence, and surrendered the initiative in some cases, Midway being the most obvious. And of course, once the resources the Japanese had built up in peacetime – in terms of personnel, ships, and aircraft – were lost in 1942-43, there was no way for them to be replaced.

combined with the service keeping control of naval aviation (as opposed to the RN)

I think the Royal Navy did, in fact, keep control of naval aviation, through the Fleet Air Arm. It just didn’t give it much attention, which is how they ended up with rather obsolete aircraft like Swordfish.

(It didn’t keep a hold of on-shore naval aviation – that was the RAF’s Coastal Command, which was very much the third priority behind Fighter and Bomber Commands, and suffered as a result.)

1937, I believe, which is part of why the bench of RN flag officers in WW II with significant aviation experience – Boyd or Lyster, for example – was so shallow. As far as I know, none of the RN’s fleet commanders were aviators, for example.

The contrast with the USN – where King was CNO/Cominch and a former fleet commander, and Halsey served as an operational fleet commander (much less Towers as DCNO (Air), etc. – is pretty striking.

i) The Fleet Air Arm was under the administrative control of the Air Ministry. It was funded by the Admiralty, personnel were a mix of navy and air force. The British service ministries had a confusing interlocking committee structure, but we should at least entertain the possibility that it worked.
ii) The first aviators proper of the Royal Navy were an intake of 6 observers in 1921. Future First Sea Lord Caspar John was in the second intake, so there were streamed officers on the way up. Still, it is a little much to expect them to reach flag rank by 1939. Will 6 Captains (Air) and a forrmer RNAS admiral do?
iii) Comparing King’s position and experience to British is entirely unhelpful, as the process by which King became a “naval aviator” had no counterpart in the Royal Navy. The online Fleet Air Arm Archives has an (incomplete) list of air admirals for those interested in pursuing a prosopographic investigation, but the potted summary is that there were lots of pre-war British naval officers who followed career tracks that led from carriers to flag (aircraft carrier), to still-higher commands. One may wish to argue that it makes a difference that Noel Laurence commanded a 10 squadron Coronation Review overflight from the backseat rather than at the stick, but that sounds like making mountains of molehills to me.
(iv) Trees>electricity>God>drought! All we need now is some mountain music, Upton Sinclair, and some “Dust Bowl refugees” and we can party like it’s 1934!

Except that in the 14 years prior to his assignment to command of the Patrol Force in 1940 (what became the Atlantic Fleet), King had been in active Naval Aviation commands for more than 12 years, ranging from service as commanding officer of Wright and then Lexington to chief of BuAer and commander of the air scouting (land-based) and battle (fleet carrier) forces.

And despite the whole JCL vs brown shoe/Towers or Halsey, saga, the USN made a very real effort to qualify senior commanders and captains as aviators in the 1920s and 1930s, because people like Reeves and Moffet were thinking ahead – and they had managed to keep the control of naval aviation within the Navy.

Again, you are taking a arrangement that existed in the United States for conferring “naval aviator” status on senior officers that did not exist in the Royal Navy, and creating meaning out of it that is just not there.
At the risk of caricaturing your position, the notion here is that we can learn something about the way that the United States Navy dealt with naval aviators by comparing its experiences with the Royal Navy. But the particular things we want to learn are already established. (It ought to have listened to them, and should continue to listen to them, and horrible things will happen if it doesn’t.)

To sustain this argument, one needed a Royal Navy that was the dark twin of the USN. Fortunately, the history of interwar British naval aviation provided one. Unfortunately, this histroy was an internalist account just as much shaped around advocacy as the American narrative. In it, RN “aviation” commands did not exist. Second-raters were given such commands as did exist, and first raters who got such commands were marked out as pariahs.

One may wish to argue from evidence to conclusions rather than advocate. If one does, this position falls apart. It is a wonder of the Internet age that it is now very, very easy to establish the facts to your own satisfaction.

I have no wish to argue, period; all I have said is the USN got the basic gist of wartime naval aviation operations much more “right” in peacetime than the only other navies that even attempted it, for a variety of reasons.

This may be of some interest to historians of the miltary, technology, even of organizational culture – and the contrast of why some organizations can adopt and adapt to new technology better than others, and prevail, is presumably worth thinking about . . .or perhaps not.

And, with all due respect, you’re wrong about that. (Specifically, about the comparison with the Royal Navy that you wish to make.) So you may continue to hold this position, but you will have to bear in mind that it is contrary to fact.
Unless you can actually spell out the difference between Reggie Henderson and Ernie King.

Henderson rose to 3SL, procurement and material, before he died. King, who was three years older then Henderson, was Chief of BuAer and went on to operational fleet command (Atlantic Fleet) and then Cominch/CNO. Are you suggesting that Henderson was in line for the Home Fleet command in 1938, rather than Forbes? Or that he would have replaced Backhouse, rather than Pound, as 1SL?

Obvioulsy, we disagree, but what – I think – you see as the “wrong” answer is, to be polite about it, pretty close to the CW for the past 60-odd years; I’m all for revisionism as an academic default (after all, where would historians be without attacks on their predecessors’ points of view?) but those who were there at the time would probably disagree with you – as see Knox, Morison, Albion, Kalbfus, Furer, etc.

Of course, they had the disadvantage of writing about a war they had been witnesses to…

Obvioulsy, we disagree, but what – I think – you see as the “wrong” answer is, to be polite about it, pretty close to the CW for the past 60-odd years; I’m all for revisionism as an academic default (after all, where would historians be without attacks on their predecessors’ points of view?) but those who were there at the time would probably disagree with you – as see Knox, Morison, Albion, Kalbfus, Furer, etc.

You misread the conventional wisdom, which is much more sophisticated than the “American Navy uber alles” vision you’ve presented in this thread and others.

Of course, they had the disadvantage of writing about a war they had been witnesses to…

As did the Generals of the Confederate States of Americaa. Shall we accept their wisdom uncritically as well?

I think TF’s comments about the conventional wisdom have some merit, Silbey. And the reason for that is worth examinng. I think it is safe to say that the dominant narrative of aviation in both the USN and RN is advocacy rather than social science. That does not mean that there is not some social science, but it is telling in itself that it is the Japanese case where there’s been some movement, because I sense that it is coming out of the wargamer community. (David Evans and Mark Peattie may correct me if I’m wrong.)
Anyone who has ever been around naval wargamers will know that the Japanese navy has a major coolness factor. The revisionism, welcome as it is, still conforms to a controlling narrative.
My frustration comes from the nature of the narrative that shapes the history of the Royal Navy.
Bear in mind that the conventional wisdom that TF Smith cites draws its picture of interwar Royal Navy aviation basically from assumptions. There are books that the conventional wisdom can cite, but how many books written about the interwar Admiralty even cite the Naval Estimates, never mind archival materials (even including the Roskill Papers?) There is a viewpoint in the world that takes it for granted that government bureaucracy equals dysfuntion, and that no examination of the facts is even required. One would think that the events of the last two years would dislodge these certainties and lead a reexamination of this prejudice.
And, T.F., it is hardly possible to say exactly what would have happened to former Rear-Admiral, Aircraft Carriers Reginald Henderson, but here’s the Wikipedia list of other Third Sea Lords of the era:
Rear-Admiral Sir Frederick Field, 1920–1923
Rear-Admiral Cyril Fuller, 1923–1925
Vice-Admiral Sir Ernle Chatfield, 1925–1928
Vice-Admiral Roger Backhouse, 1928–1932
Vice-Admiral Charles Forbes, 1932–1934
Admiral Sir Reginald Henderson, 1934–1939
Vice-Admiral Sir Bruce Fraser, 1939–1942
I only see one Third Sea Lord who did not make Admiral of the Fleet, and he died in office in 1939.